Best Carr Poems
The Little White Church
The little white church engulfed by the immensity
Of Western Hemlock, Red Cedar, and Douglas Fir
On Nootka Island in Nootka Sound
Confirms the remoteness of the Yuquot Village
On the west coast of Vancouver Island.
The green of the trees towering above and around
Glorifies the whitewashed wood of the chapel.
Surrounding the path leading to the entrance
Are coastal ferns leaning as if pointing the way,
Akin to a Westminster Abbey in the rainforest.
The windowless facade structure faces the ocean
As a defence against the wind’s many directional forces,
While crosses protected in the yard by a picket fence
Bear testimony to Christ’s presence
Among the Mowachaht/Muchalaht First Nations.
Above the door to the house of God,
A steeple rises with a cross on top
And a bell that tolls to call the “people of the deer”
Of Friendly Cove to gather, worship, and pray
In Jesus Christ’s name, Lord and Saviour.
***
Note:
“The Little White Church” is an ekphrastic poem describing the painting of a local church located on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, by Canadian artist Emily Carr (1871–1945) entitled “Native Church” (1929).
In denim- blues skies:
the sun hums gold a decaying monotone
of chest crushing heat on teeming trees
to fields and prairies, where they striptease.
And when the wind gusts:
cool hours seed encoring the hues
of ochres bright not of fire forced.
Spirally wheeled pupils may whirl
as in tireless and heavy rammed blow,
brown crinkled leaves fly in frenzied dance.
Weak limbs shudder too; lulled, they tumble,
fall and rest to coat the earth.
but within the heat, nothing goes to
waste nature regenerates.
It worms the leaves into compost weaves.
Yes, shades of Autumn are nature's mourning
for nature's die yet still its beauty: a romance
as it gratifies the eyes.
__________________________________________________
~~Inspired by the painting: Autumn in France
by Emily Carr 1911
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
5:49pm , January 15, 2015
Golden flares ignite explosions from my hand,
set the sun in bright orange and yellow;
A potent force consumes in brilliance more
than what feeds the hunger of the rest.
Redder blood beats within vessels
of monstrous green under luminous skin;
Tongues of fire lick the spirit of witness
and inspire revolutions within the mind.
Bold, barely controlled energy crackles
and connects neurons to transmit the vision.
Deep, searing, mind scorching heat
tests each grain of thought and deed.
I travel to places where wind and light
bring new tones and tints to perception;
My world changes at a speed of color's
flight, and you are in the passenger's seat.
After: Autumn in France by Emily Carr 1911
Footnote: Minor revisions this time except the reverse in personification. Thanks again, Deb. Also to Nette and John W.
For Debbie Guzzi's Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 5
Kim Patrice Nunez
10 January 2016
"Art is art, nature is nature you cannot improve upon it ...
Pictures should be inspired by nature but made of the soul
of the artist. It is the soul of the individual that counts."
_ Emily Carr, Canadian Artist and Author, 1817 - 1945
_____________________
March is International Women's Month and I salute all women who
have made a difference in the world. You are an inspiration for
all women to strife to be. I would like to highlight one woman
who has inspired my art, photography and writing, and
her name is Emily Carr, a Canadian Icon, Artist and Author.
Emily was born in 1817, in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.
She has been described as Canada's Van Gogh. She embraced
a modern style of art inspired by Indigenous Peoples and forests.
Studied in art schools in San Francisco, London and Paris.
She returned to Canada in 1911 and embraced painting the grandeur
of forests, quaint villages, and Indigenous peoples and so much more.
Her art was not accepted at the time, but was rediscovered in 1927
with an exhibit at the National Art Gallery in Ottawa, Canada. She
got the attention she deserved. She had bad health in her later years
that prevented her from painting so she wrote, she wrote many books
and she was a good writer. Received the Governor General Literary
Award. In 1971 a stamp was issued to honor her. There is an
Emily Carr University of Art and Design, Public Library, and schools
named after her all across Canada. Emily died in 1945, but lives on .
"Something has called out somewhere
and something in me is trying to answer."
_ Emily Carr
________________________
March 27, 2022
Poetry/Ode/Canadian Icon, Emily Carr
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1443-780-27
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Tribute to Women
sponsor, Beata Agustin, Judged 04/22/2022
Second Place
Mum..Why did you give me lego hair.?
To upstage my Alan Carr teeth
And stretch that grey nylon pinefore
Tight
To ridicule my chubby young knees
And why dear mummy
Was my elastic bands so tight
As they struggled around my chubs
Was Battleship grey
The fashion
Of socks those days..
Dear mummy
.
Me thinks not!
Question - - -
Is the Internet eroding our attention span?
Carr wrote an essay; who’d he think would read it
Over 500 words, I’d have to concede it
Intrigued me at first; caught my attention
He’d use that many words simply to mention
That the hard-wired brain of the typical man
Typically has the attention span
Of three minutes or less when watching a scene
Or three paragraphs read, you know what I mean
He used too many words to get it across
Our reading ability has come at a loss
We’ve come to a point where we think it divine
To channel-surf TV while searching on line
We get snippets of this and snippets of that
And that my dear friends is where our brains are at
And even this poem, though it is shorter than most
We all can agree is a little verbose
And to tell you the truth, Carr’s lengthy essay
Was too long to read through on this busy day
I read a few lines in a section or two
Then stopped to write this, his perception is true
He lost my attention with so many words
My recommendation – cut it down by two thirds
Or better yet – make this an attraction
Draw a funny cartoon with your thoughts in the caption!
Mdailey Placed 7th in the contest
Nicholas G. Carr (born 1959) is an American writer who has published books and
articles on technology, business, and culture. His rather lengthy essay on what the
internet is doing to our brains in the Atlantic Monthly has been debated hither and
yon across the blogging community.
Dane
Intense, emotional, intelligent, curious
Sister of Charme Carr and Ray Crawford III Phd
Lover of the creative thought processes
Who feels passionate, loyal, and at times frustrated
Who fears too much government power, interference, and oppression.
Who would like to see God the Father, Jesus Christ, and Beyond the Vail.
Live Oak, Florida
Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: BIO poems
Sponsor Regina Riddle
Colorful Fantasy Flights
You brought color to life;
a soul seeking newer forms.
Into bright red, sandy, realms
holding rainbows in disguise,
you instead slept not
yet endured all—
with honor.
Blank canvas speaks to you
about its great thirst
and colors galore.
Your firm belief in honor and
beauty satisfies.
Did you not find heart in
brush strokes?
Sending painted glee
and with art have you not flown deep
into life's mysteries?
Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2016
Painting number five
Poem number five, Ekphrasis (Free verse)
Inspired by-
Autumn in France by Emily Carr 1911
and Debbie Guzzi's 10 for 10 challenge.
Ekphrastic: Writing on Art and Art on Writing [this site ACCEPTS reprints] http://www.ekphrastic.net/submissions.html
Dad was a great piano player
Grandpa Luther was a great man
He burned his wife’s Bible
In 1942, when Colorado farmers
Decided all Germans and Japanese
Threatened them
My grandmother
Got another Bible
English version
She didn’t have to hide
Governor Ralph Lawrence Carr
Was a great man, too
The only one who stood for
The rights of Japanese
–Americans– just like he
Said, “if you harm them
You must harm me.”
Thanks to Governor Ralph
Ito
My grandpa’s neighbor
Remained free
When his haystack was burned
He would not accept charity
So grandpa accepted his trade
Ito’s piano for grandpa’s hay
And that's how Dad
Learned to play
Historiography is no job for the coward.
if you are doubtful, locomate to the “cow ward”.
Summon Ibn Bantuta, Jan vansina, Samuel Johnson and Cicero ,
they all know history is made in every scenario.
“What is history” , written and tailored by E.H Carr.
Written tradition will help for I intend to carve.
Great historians filter out myth and fables,
but illusions,monocausal explanations ,and lack of chronology still on their table.
Written sources is our Cinderella,
But in trail, historians is our helper,
cos they will shelter our history for the better,
And also help them out of their obscurity coma.
History will be kind to me for I intend to wright it.
Walter Rodney, Marx, Al-Tabari and other great historians like me are all at it.
Hit at it, achieve it and breath,
cos written history brings us out of the heat.
“Not knowing what took place before you were born is to remain forever child” … says Cicero.
Get matured, grow, flow and know,
as you lay your head on your pillow.
history is an unending dialogue between the past and the present, hope you know.
Sammy Kyle the historian , the poet, oh yes! i am.
Will not stop learning as I need no ladder to climb a can.
Historians are radicals they say, we brag! oh! yes we are
And for ever will I ride on because there is a reason behind the name kyle.
Sammy Kyle
I held on. I took care of such a fragile thing. I took care to make it look and feel better. It was beautiful. It made me happy ......but it was such a fragile thing. ........one day a strong wind came and started whipping this fragile beautiful thing one way and then another. It was then I found it hard to hold on. But it was such a beautiful fragile thing.....I tried with all my might to hold on ....grasp it without ruining it. Holding on so not to loose it...but trying not to damage it either. The winds grew stronger and blinded me..distracted me and I loosened my grip for a second and this fragile beautiful thing slipped through my hands. I ran after it and tried in the storm to catch it. I watched and waited to see if the wind would bring it down. I stared and watched and waited patiently and the storm took the fragile beautiful thing and carried it. I watched and I waited patiently but this fragile beautiful thing disappeared into the storm. Later on the next day, I found what looked like this fragile beautiful thing....but it was nothing like it originally was. It was beaten and shaken. It had holes and I could not hold it together. No matter what I did. No matter how I tried I could not put it together again. And that beautiful fragile thing was now just a memory.-Tanya Carr
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
I'll See your face again
I swear it
No matter how far away they take you from me
Fading, Going Away, Don't be so afraid
Death is a Dream
The Cross Will Be lighter
Whisper the words
so sacred, so somber
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
A Fallen Angel looms over the lifeless stone
What Happened here must be true
I must live this life without you
Breaking the Silence
She began to Weep
The Epitaph ceasing to know
We all must Return To Dust
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
After the Casket Falls
After your soul is called
After your final breathe is drawn
I'll meet you again
The solitude is euphoric as an illusional clock
Of argentine fears swallow the last soul
Goodnight black rose of eternity
Goodnight dearest gothic phantom
Tonight The Earth consumes me
**Special Thanks To My Writing Partner Cayla Carr**
Well Raider fans our season was going great
Winning many games in the 4th quarter late
We were ready for a playoff run to go really far
We had the best QB in the league our man Derek Carr
Next thing you know our guy takes a fall
All of a sudden Mc Gloin has the ball
With one play we knew our hopes were in despair
While #4 sits at home with his leg in the air
So now its up to our coach pirate captain jack
To get us in the game with a passing attack
In comes third string Quarterback Conner
It looks like our season is now just a gonner
Hard to believe we fell so fast
We were the team to beat before that cast
My fellow Raider Nation we sit crying in our beer
Already thinking .................just wait til next year!!
Painting #5
Autumn in France by Emily Carr 1911
Coats of Autumn
Satisfied,
long awaited
summer fades
into an explosion
of color, I bask
in the many coats of Autumn
draped across the shoulders
of a grateful people.
Merci to the Creator
of such splendor,
I behold textures
unlike any other
As far as the eyes can see,
I stare into unmeasured
beauty, absorbing it all
before the snow brings
beauty of its own.
Autumn in France by Emily Carr 1911
PORTRAIT NO. 5
AUTUMN
by Jeanette Jones
Homes across the countryside,
sits amidst of Autumn.
Whispers of wind play rapidly in the dark,
as leaves await for daylight to hit the ground.
Morning float into play, as the moon gives in, to the sun.
Admiration of lovers passing by
capture birds in flight.
Smiles on the faces, they brace for the breeze
of Autumn.